My Pointe Shoes, Your Basketball
by The Bloody Countess
Summary: Nanay, there is NOTHING remotely adorable or sweet or cute about that...that...TURD!" UPDATED FINALLY! Leave rants if you want. :) I'm SO sorry it took me so long!
1. Prologue

Disclaimers are disclaimers, okay!  
  
  
Dedicated to: My dearest cousin, Rhea (Ate Iyay to all of us younger ones). You know all the joys and pains of a dancer more than anyone. As long as you have those pink satin toe shoes, keep dancing to the rhythm life sets out for you. I will always remember you as the Sugar Plum Fairy in the Nutcracker, though you have many more performances coming...Thanks for all the encouragement!  
  
  
  
  
  
MY POINTE SHOES, YOUR BASKETBALL  
  
  
  
  
Whenever I dance, I feel that everything in life is so clear. Like there's nothing more to be afraid of than being deprived of the chance to lace my pointe shoes together. Ballet has always been like the oasis in my desert, ever since I was a child. It fills me with a passion that seems so surreal at times. No matter how tired my body is, my mind and my heart can't stop dancing and I feel I must go on. Because when I dance, my passions and my feelings are released from their bindings...  
  
  
When I prepare for a grand jete, I prepare for a flight to the heavens. When I dance an adagio, I pour out my soul into every step, every turn, and every pose. There is no opportunity for a mistake. Everything must be perfect. I must not be afraid...  
  
  
But now, I feel fear...  
  
  
The accident was terrible...  
  
  
It is one I will never forget...  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~ Taken from the diary of Makiko Tsukiyama, 18 years old ~*~*~ 


	2. Chapter One: Bumping Into a Stranger on ...

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"To dance is to be out of yourself, larger, more powerful, more beautiful. This is power, it is glory on earth and it is yours for the taking."   
----Agnes De Mille  
  
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Eighteen-year-old Makiko Tsukiyama opened her eyes to find the early rays of a Saturday morning sun streaming into her bedroom. Her almost-waifish form stretched languorously beneath her navy blue comforter before she finally rose out of bed. Standing in the center of her impossibly-tidy room, she did a few demi-plies to wear out the kinks in her muscles, feeling the familiar stretch in her thighs before completing the series with a grand plie.   
  
  
Following that, she turned her feet out in second position, slowly raising up her left leg to the side until it was almost touching her head, keeping her toes pointed and using her thigh muscles to maintain her position. Her hand came up to grab her ankle and she slowly counted to ten before finally letting go. She repeated the same process with her right leg and then began her Pilates exercises.   
  
  
As a dancer, Makiko could never overlook the importance of the stretching exercises that her teacher and choreographer, Madamoiselle Cardin, imposed on her and the rest of the dancers in the studio. A dancer's body must always be ready to dance no matter what, as she would always tell them and she made sure none of them ever forgot that. It was one philosophy she would always live by.  
  
  
Makiko's slender body slowly eased out of its kinks as she approached the end of her morning exercises, just in time to hear her mother come up the stairs and knock on each of her children's doors as a sign that breakfast was ready.   
  
  
"Up and out of bed, kids! Breakfast is ready! Hideaki! Emiko-chan! Maki ~ "  
  
  
Makiko's head popped out of the door, her face lighting up in the brightest of smiles. "Hai hai, okaasan! You just said the magic word!"  
  
  
She then lightly ran down the stairs, her pajama bottoms flapping on the steps as she quickly tied her long black hair into a loose ponytail. She stopped to greet her father good morning with a peck on the cheek before sitting down to gobble up the pancakes her mother had cooked. Spreading a generous amount of butter and syrup on three of them, Makiko set about to slicing them, spearing a piece with her fork and then bringing it to her mouth, closing her eyes as she savored the taste.  
  
  
"Golden, light, and fluffy. Just ~ "  
  
  
" ~ the way you like it," came her mother's voice, followed by a scraping of chairs that told Makiko that the other kids in the house were joining them to eat.  
  
  
Makiko smiled and winked. "You know it!" She continued to happily chow down on her food and was about to spear another two pancakes when her twelve-year-old brother, Hideaki, nudged her.  
  
  
"Oi, oneesan! You're gonna turn into a blimp if you keep on eating like that," he remarked, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  
  
  
Makiko scoffed, taking time to ruffle her younger brother's hair. "I burn it off with hard work, runt." Emiko just laughed and nodded over her pancakes, watching the way Hideaki's sleepiness disappeared with Makiko's teasing.  
  
  
"Oi! Don't call me a runt! And don't do that to my hair, either!"   
  
  
"Whatever. Runt."  
  
  
"Okaasan!!! Otousan!!!" Hideaki wailed.  
  
  
Both parents just shook their heads and smiled.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
As Makiko ran out the house, she vaguely heard her mother calling out something about her therapy and she immediately waved back, calling over her shoulder, "I'll do it in the studio before everyone else arrives!"  
  
  
Suddenly, she was on her bottom and her half-open duffel bag (which she had forgotten to close in her eagerness to get to the studio) was on the pavement, its contents spilling out. Dazedly, she rubbed her forehead, accepting the hand that had come out of nowhere to help her up.  
  
  
"Are you okay?" A voice asked, relaxed in timbre.  
  
  
"I am but I don't think my stuff are," Makiko replied, trying to repress the urge to blush at the sound of the stranger's voice. It was the kind of voice that every girl dreamt their Prince Charming to have...deep baritone, tinged with a bit of humor and cynicism, but still very sexy.  
  
  
"I'm sorry if I didn't watch where I was going," the stranger replied again, going over to pick up her stuff. Makiko shook her head.  
  
  
"Iie...It was my fault, I was the one who wasn't watching where I was going." She bent down to help her Good Samaritan, briefly noting that he was tall, even though he was hunched on the pavement, helping her put back her stuff.  
  
  
She reached for her pointe shoes that had fallen out, checking to see if there were any scratches before gently placing them back in her bag.  
  
  
"Nice shoes. What sport do you play?" The stranger asked again, attempting conversation with her.   
  
  
Makiko had to grin. She politely shook her head, still trying to get her brain to cooperate and force her eyes to look up into the stranger's face so she would at least know if he was a looker or not. "No, I'm not an athlete. I'm a ballet dancer. Actually I ~ "  
  
  
The words died in her throat when she finally DID look up into his face. Gold-flecked brown met deep sea blue and the look of gratitude on her face was immediately replaced with anger.   
  
  
"YOU!!!"  
  
  
Mitsui Hisashi grinned.  
  
  
  
  
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To be continued...  
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	3. Chapter Two: The Neanderthal and the Fri...

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"Dance isn't something that can be explained in words; it has to be danced."  
  
--Paige Arden   
  
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She glared dangerously at him, her hackles rising as his grin grew wider. Of all the guys she HAD to bump into, it had to be him...  
  
  
Mitsui Hisashi.  
  
  
The boy she absolutely hated since kindergarten.  
  
  
"Hello, Makiko-chan," Mitsui drawled, his grin bordering on teasing as he regarded her beneath thick lashes that didn't belong on a guy.   
  
  
She pushed past him quickly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Beat it, doofus."  
  
  
She thought she had gotten away from him but he quickly caught up, falling in step with her. Makiko groaned inwardly. She had forgotten that since he was more than a head taller than she was, his legs were a lot longer and he could walk pretty fast when he wanted to.  
  
  
"Now, now Makiko-chan...I help you and 'no thanks' is all the thanks I get?" Mitsui teased, smirking down at her.  
  
  
She flushed angrily and quickened her pace. Only a few more blocks and she'd be in the studio. "I don't need to thank a chauvinistic neanderthal such as yourself," she icily bit out, keeping her eyes straight ahead.  
  
  
"C'mon, Makiko," Mitsui prodded, reaching out to pinch her cheek, only to have his hand swatted away. "No need to act like a frigid bitch. I'm trying to be friends, here."  
  
  
Here, her blood boiled in her veins at the insult and she practically screamed at him, unmindful of the people around them. "I WOULD RATHER KISS A BABOON, YOU MISOGYNIST CRETIN! BACK OFF!"  
  
  
Mitsui held up his hands in ceasefire, obviously taken aback at her sudden outburst. 'Then again, she's always been quick-tempered, ever since we were kids,' he mused, watching as she ran inside a tall building with a sign that read "CHARLOTTE CARDIN DANCE STUDIO" outside.  
  
  
"So this is where she hangs out on Saturdays," he mumbled, re-reading the sign. "She should hang out at an Anger Management Clinic. It might help lower her blood pressure and improve her personality."  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
Just as they were about to cross the curb, Sumire Hanagata and her boyfriend, Fujima Kenji, heard an angry yell that made both of them jump. And judging from the words peppering that shout, it sounded like a not-too-happy girl was being bullied by a pesky guy.   
  
  
But imagine to their surprise when they saw that the guy was actually Mitsui Hisashi, the shooting guard of Shohoku High and former junior high MVP. A black and pink blur moved past him, pushing into the doors of the tall building. Sumire looked at Kenji and raised her eyebrows in question, the motion receiving a shrug of the shoulders from Kenji and an equally confused look.   
  
  
"Wanna go over to him and talk, Mire-chan?" Kenji asked his girlfriend, knowing of her rather painful and traumatic history with the guy.  
  
  
Sumire smirked. "My curiousity's getting the better of me. And don't worry, Kenji-kun. I'm forgiving him gradually everyday."  
  
  
The couple crossed over to where Mitsui was standing, stifling their chuckles at the evident scowl on his face. When he turned around to see them, the scowl melted away and he gave them an uneasy smile, still a bit uncomfortable around Sumire after what he did to her.   
  
  
Sumire smiled back, reassuringly. "It's okay, Mitsui-san. We were just wondering what happened."  
  
  
"Eh?" Mitsui drew back, confused.  
  
  
"We heard some girl shout," Kenji explained. Mitsui's scowl immediately returned.  
  
  
"Oh, her?" His voice was laced with biting sarcasm. "That was Tsukiyama Makiko, the Frigid Bitch of Kanagawa."  
  
  
Sumire hid a smile behind her hand. "Oh come on."  
  
  
The ex-gangster nodded his head vigorously. "I'm serious. She can freeze an entire country solid with one glare and she loves to insult you with words too big for the average human being."  
  
  
Both Kenji and Sumire had to laugh at that. "She can't be THAT bad," Kenji remarked, chuckling.  
  
  
"Bah! I've known her since kindergarten. She's always been a bitch," Mitsui snorted, readjusting the strap of his gym bag. Sumire shook her head.  
  
  
"Are you sure she's like that?" She wanted to know, curious why this Makiko person practically made Mitsui see red.  
  
  
Mitsui shrugged his broad shoulders. "Beats the hell out of me. As far as I can remember, I had a fight with her just once and ever since then, she's been on my case," he replied. "Come to think about it, SHE started the fight!" He added, frowning again.  
  
  
"Well, good luck with her," Kenji said, patting Mitsui on the back. "I sure hope you guys don't rip each other's throats out."  
  
  
The couple walked away arm in arm when Sumire suddenly stopped and turned back to Mitsui. "Mitsui-san, wanna crash the mall with us?" She asked. Kenji looked at him, waiting for his answer.  
  
  
Mitsui politely declined. "No thanks. 'Three's a crowd,' remember?" At their questioning looks, he waved them off. "I got some practice to do, anyways."  
  
  
So saying, he waved goodbye and headed in the opposite direction, whistling Hanamichi's 'Ore wa Tensai' song before he realized what he was doing and righted himself. As he walked away, Sumire turned her eyes in the direction of the studio.  
  
  
"I wonder who she is," she said aloud, frowning slightly. Kenji grinned.  
  
  
"I have a feeling they'll be together soon," he remarked, putting an arm around Sumire's shoulders.  
  
  
"What makes you say that?"  
  
  
"There's that saying that goes, 'The more you hate, the more you love,' and I'm pretty sure those two fit the bill. Kinda like 'Moonlighting' when you think about it," Kenji laughed, pretending to wince in pain when Sumire whacked him lightly on the arm.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
Makiko entered the studio, still muttering a litany of curses that could have shamed just about any drunken man. She plopped her bag down on the wooden floor, kicking her tennis shoes off and unzipping her jeans to reveal pink tights that ended just above her ankles. She already had her black leotard on as a sort of blouse, so all she needed was to lace on her shoes and she'd be ready to dance.  
  
  
'Not just yet,' she told herself, sitting down to examine her left foot where an ugly scar ran from just below her middle toe to where her leg connected to her foot.   
  
  
Wincing a little at the sight of it, Makiko drew out what looked like a long strip of rubber from her duffel bag and tied it around the arch of her foot, pulling on the ends hard with her hands as she first pointed her toes and then flexed her foot, feeling the arch contract and relax with each repetition.  
  
  
This was the therapy she had to undergo and she had to do it all the time if she wanted to continue dancing, as what the doctors had said.   
  
  
One year had passed since the accident had happened and she had thought that her whole world would come to an end because of it. But she refused to be told and she defied the doctors' orders, continuing to dance as soon as she was well enough.   
  
  
Thankfully, she had not lost her touch and she determinedly pressed on.   
  
  
This was what she wanted most, to become a professional dancer at all costs. She had made dancing her life, ever since her parents took her to her first ballet at age four. The world of dancing fascinated her, and her loving parents immediately put her under the tutelage of the best ballet choreographers and instructors they could find.  
  
  
Makiko's parents were thankful that everything had paid off. Each instructor sang Makiko's praises, saying that she had great potential as a dancer and she would surely make it to one a famous ballet company in no time. And Makiko believed it. Every fiber in her body believed it.  
  
  
"I'll keep dancing," she said aloud with resolve to the empty studio. "No matter what."  
  
  
No matter what...  
  
  
  
  
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To be continued...  
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	4. Chapter Three: Madamoiselle Cardin's Ann...

AN: I forgot to mention that Lady Harlequin's characters from her fics will be making appearances from time to time in this particular fic. So, if some of you read the last chapter where I mentioned Sumire Hanagata, please read Lady Harlequin's "Somewhere I Have Never Traveled." Aside from the fact that it is a good fic, it will also help clarify some questions this fic of mine could be causing you to raise. Also, I might be giving away some hints of another OC here and there, but that's for you to figure out.   
  
As for the ballet terms in the fic, I will soon provide the URL to a site that has a definition of terms plus Quick Time demonstrations, so don't miss that.   
  
Now, on with the fic!  
  
  
  
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"Someone once said that dancers work just as hard as policeman, always alert, always tense. But see, policeman don't have to be beautiful at the same time."  
  
--George Balanchine  
  
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"Oi! Micchy! Stop glaring at the wall or you'll crack it!"  
  
  
Hisashi Mitsui snapped to attention, jolted out of his thoughts by the boisterous yell of his teammate, Sakuragi Hanamichi, their star rebounder. He narrowed his eyes at the freshman, covering his ears to keep his poor eardrums from shattering. It wasn't just Hanamichi's voice that had broke his train of thought, but the fact that he was standing right beside him and the redhead just HAD to shout in his ears.  
  
  
"BAKA!!! You don't need to shout at a person you're standing next to!!!" Mitsui growled, whacking Hanamichi upside the head.  
  
  
The tall freshman laughed. "I knew that would get your attention."  
  
  
Miyagi, their new team captain, came up and whacked both Mitsui's and Hanamichi's rear ends. "Break's over guys! Get back to practice!"  
  
  
"Jeez! Miyagi! You don't have to do that!" Mitsui complained, rubbing his tailbone. The diminutive team captain grinned.  
  
  
"I know...But it works everytime," he replied before walking out of the locker room to join his girlfriend and their team manageress, Ayako.  
  
  
Rukawa, meanwhile was moping in a corner, hunched forward on the bench, his black hair obscuring his eyes. Hanamichi shook his head. "This team's getting weird," he remarked and then looked at Mitsui. "First the kitsune starts acting weird, now YOU start acting weird, Micchy. I wonder who else will start acting weird."  
  
  
"I'd like you to act quiet for a change," Mitsui snapped back, poking Hanamichi and leaning over to speak in hushed tones. "Can't you understand that Rukawa's acting like that because SHE left?!" He hissed.  
  
  
The redhead's look changed abruptly and he lowered his eyes to the floor. "I know that," he replied softly. "I miss her too, but she said she wanted us to be strong and ~ "   
  
  
"Oi, I know you're trying for her sake, too. But let Rukawa have some time alone. He fell in love with her, remember?" Mitsui reminded his friend, looking back to where the Super Rookie was still sitting, with a towel draped over his broad shoulders.   
  
  
Hanamichi nodded. "Yeah. I just hope he gets himself together for the games we'll be having. Because that's what SHE would have wanted him to do."  
  
  
They walked out of the locker room when Mitsui suddenly sneezed mightily. "Ah...Ah...AH-CHOOOO!!!!!"  
  
  
The teasing atmosphere was back in a flash when Hanamichi pretended to shrink back in fear. "Gyah! Micchy's catching a cold! Micchy's spreading his cooties! Head for the hills! Run for your lives!"  
  
  
"Urusai!"   
  
  
They joined their laughing teammates for another round of practice, Mitsui rubbing his aching nose from the sneeze, a nagging feeling in the back of his head that it wasn't the beginnings of the flu, but something entirely different.   
  
  
'Someone must be thinking about me...'  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Oi..."  
  
  
The soft voice was enough to make Makiko snap back to reality. She craned her head around to see her pas de deux partner, Eito Yamazaki, looking at her with a worried frown.  
  
  
"What?"  
  
  
"You've been going through our exercises like the undead. What's wrong with you today?" Eito asked, shifting his feet into third position before they went into another set of battement tendus as Madamoiselle Cardin looked on. Makiko blushed guiltily. She had been distracted by thoughts of Mitsui again, playing out the 1001 ways in which to kill him.   
  
  
"It's nothing to worry about, Eito-kun. I was just lost in thought," she replied, relaxing her hold on the barre.  
  
  
"Lost in space is more like it," her partner muttered with a grin, stretching out one leanly-muscled arm for their arabesques. The other dancers who heard him supressed their chuckles and Makiko blushed even redder.  
  
  
'Damn that Mitsui Hisashi to Hell!'  
  
  
"How's your foot?" Eito asked, changing the topic as he glanced down worriedly at Makiko's left foot. As principal danseur and Makiko's partner, it was his job to protect her from bad falls and he worried non-stop about her.   
  
  
"Doesn't hurt now," Makiko shrugged, finishing her développés.  
  
  
"You make sure you do your therapy, cher, or else ze company and myself will mourn." Madamoiselle Cardin came up, kneeling down on one knee to examine Makiko's foot as she executed a fouetté. The arch seemed okay, but she was doubtful so she asked Makiko to execute another step.  
  
  
"Please do a retiré, cher."  
  
  
Makiko did so, stopping when Madamoiselle Cardin held her foot in place, clucking her tongue. "Just as I thought...Ze turnout is inconsistent...try to ask your doctor for more exercises for your therapy."  
  
  
The eighteen-year-old girl smiled. "Hai. I will do that, Madamoiselle."  
  
  
Madamoiselle Cardin was a middle-aged woman who hailed from Paris, France. Though she was officially forty-five, she looked thirty, with no wrinkles around her face and no signs of grey in her dark brown hair. In her younger years, she was the prima ballerina of one of the most prestigious ballet companies in Paris, but moved in with a Japanese danseur from the corps de ballet and settled down in Kanagawa to start her own company, much to the shock of everyone, including her family.   
  
  
She never got married, but she and her partner Shigeki, remained happy training young people with the potential to become professional dancers in the future. In treating their dancers, they were strict but fair, never raising their voice and always believing in improvement. However, Shigeki died of lung cancer five years after the studio had started, leaving Madamoiselle Cardin on her own.   
  
  
When she saw a twelve-year-old Makiko dance in a school program, she immediately wanted the young girl to sign up under her tutelage. Ever since then, she had been training the girl, treating her like she was her own daughter and pushing her to strive for the best. Makiko had then become her silent favorite in the class, and she was deeply worried when the accident had happened and she was afraid that Makiko would never be able to get her dancing career going.  
  
  
She was wrong however, when her prinicpal bounced back from surgery and into the world of dancing once more, barely a year after her accident. That alone gained the admiration of all the other dancers in the studio and Cardin knew she had a winner.  
  
  
"Okay, everyone will please assemble and gather around...I have something to announce." She clapped her hands together and all dancers hurried from the portable barres to the center of the room, half-excited and half-curious.  
  
  
"As you all know," Charlotte Cardin began. "we have been working hard for very long. It is time now zat ze whole world sees your talent to dance ballet." She paced back and forth as she talked, keeping eye contact with every student in the room as the silence hung over them.  
  
  
"So, it is with great pleasure zat I am announcing zat we will be re-staging Ze Nutcracker..." Here, she was drowned out by shouts and excited cheers from everyone and she held up her hands for silence. "In a week, we will be touring ze different schools and dance to spark ze interest. Ze people come and watch us after zat."  
  
  
Makiko's eyes sparkled with the prospect of dancing and she grinned up at Eito, who returned her smile with his own. It was time to get the show on the road.  
  
  
  
  
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To be continued...  
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	5. Chapter Four: Show Him What You're Made ...

AN: I was really surprised at the way this fic was received by the readers. I started out planning a fic like this way back in high school. I never realized ballet had such a hold on me until later on when I saw my cousin dance. It was the most important day of her life because she had been in a terrible accident that had left her unable to dance for more than a year and she had to walk around in crutches. But thankfully, she is well again and she has been performing just as good as she used to, perhaps even better. It is with this reason that I have dedicated the entire fic solely to her.  
  
Ate Iyay, your passion for dancing has never ceased to amaze me...Keep on dancing!  
  
On a more personaly note: Please help me and my family pray for my grandfather. He had a bad accident and hit his head, and he was rushed to the hospital. He's been unconscious since last Thursday and is in the ICU. Please pray for his recovery and that he will wake up soon...  
  
  
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"Dance is the hidden language of the soul."  
  
--Martha Graham   
  
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Monday morning dragged by for Makiko. She didn't really care for school...all she cared about was ballet. Despite that, her grades were good and she was never questioned by her parents when she stayed late in the studio for practice. This morning however, she couldn't concentrate on anything her teacher was saying. All she could do was stare blankly into space, tapping her pencil on her open notebook and humming Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers under her breath.  
  
  
Ever since Madamoiselle Cardin had announced that they would be re-staging one of her favorite ballets, Makiko had been all pins and needles, walking through the corridors of her school in a daze as she imagined herself dressed in a pink tutu, flying through the air in a grand jeté, her pointe shoes flashing in the light...of the audience clapping, clapping, clapping...  
  
  
"Hel-looooo! Earth to Makiko! Snap out of it girl!"  
  
  
A hand stretched out to whack her lightly on the head. She snapped awake, only to find her bestfriend and fellow dancer Takeyama Yukiko smirking at her. Makiko grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry, what were you saying again?"  
  
  
Yukiko laughed aloud, the sound carrying throughout the canteen like thousands of chimes clinking. Makiko smiled. Yukiko always had a nice laugh...graceful, elegant, and beautiful...she never got tired of listening to her friend's laughter.  
  
  
"Just like you to space out when I'm talking about cute guys," Yukiko giggled, flipping her wavy blonde-streaked hair over her shoulder. "I really don't understand why you never show interest in any guy."  
  
  
Makiko shrugged. "Maybe because I haven't found one I really like. But don't let me stop you...I'm listening."  
  
  
"What're we discussing again?" Another voice came up from behind Yukiko and both girls glanced up to see another dancer from the corps and the only gaijin among them, Erika Jansen, grinning down at them.  
  
  
"Ballet," Makiko replied.  
  
  
"Boys," said Yukiko.  
  
  
"My favorites!" Erika quipped, making them laugh as she eagerly sat down beside Yukiko. "So who's the newest one you spotted, Yukiko-chan?" she asked, wiggling her delicate eyebrows at her.  
  
  
Yukiko pointed to a boy sitting at the far end of the canteen, hunched over. His back was towards them so Erika snorted in disappointment. "All I can see from here is his back, Yukiko-chan."  
  
  
Yukiko smiled. "Wait until he turns around. I swear, this one's so cute, you'll be begging on your hands and knees for him to take you out on a date."  
  
  
As if on cue, the said topic of discussion stood up and turned around, slinging his bag over his broad shoulders. Erika and Makiko gasped simultaneously.   
  
  
The boy had messy black hair, thick level eyebrows that showed his intolerance for fools, deep-set blue eyes that were as deep as the end of the ocean, a straight, proud nose, and lips that were so sensuously curved, it could have very well been the Devil who made such lips. The only trace of imperfection on his handsome face was the scar near his stubborn chin, but it just made him even more attractive...and dangerously so, at that.   
  
  
"He is so sexy!" Erika gushed at exactly the same moment Makiko exclaimed, "He is such a jerk!"  
  
  
"EH?" Both girls turned to Makiko, who glared angrily at the boy.  
  
  
"Makiko-chan...do you know him?" Yukiko asked, bewildered at her friend's reaction to the new cutie she had spotted.  
  
  
Before she could open her mouth and explain, Erika squealed. "Oh my stars and stripes! He's coming this way!"  
  
  
Makiko gathered her things and stood up, wanting to get away from Mitsui as far as she possibly could. "I'm leaving. Gotta go study in the library. The air in here is suffocating me," she said in a loud voice, turning around only to collide into the solid wall of Mitsui's chest.  
  
  
"Leaving so soon?" He smoothly teased, winking at her. "I haven't been introduced to your friends yet, Makiko-chan."   
  
  
"I don't need to introduce a macho jackass like you to decent people!" She shot back. "And stop blocking my way!"  
  
  
Oh yes...the one thing that pissed Makiko off even more. She and Mitsui had been in the same schools ever since. And meeting him everyday in the hallways just irked her even more.   
  
  
It was like an omen.   
  
  
When she transferred to another grade school, Mitsui was there. In junior high, she saw him again winning the MVP and STILL annoying the hell out of her. She vowed that she would transfer to some unknown high school in order to avoid him and more of his teasing.  
  
  
But once again, the fates were against her as Mitsui Hisashi, MVP from Takeishi Junior High entered the school gates of Shohoku High School. And the first thing he did upon seeing her was...  
  
  
"Oi, are you going to just stand there, Makiko? I just want to get acquainted with your really pretty friends, here." Mitsui pinched her cheek, something he had been doing ever since they first fought. If looks could kill, Mitsui would have been dead in an instant with the acid glare Makiko shot him as she sat back down.  
  
  
"Yukiko-chan, Erika-chan, meet Mitsui Hisashi. Mitsui, these are my friends and classmates, Takeyama Yukiko and Erika Jansen," she said rather stiffly, her voice clipped and edged with steel. Her friends giggled and nodded their greetings as the scarred junior winked at them.  
  
  
"So you're Mitsui Hisashi, eh? I remember you were an MVP in junior high. You play basketball, right?" Yukiko smiled, batting her eyelashes at him. Mitsui smiled.   
  
  
"Hai, Yukiko-san. That I do. It's a fun sport," he replied.  
  
  
"I would loooove to see you play sometime, Mitsui," Erika chirped, scooting a bit closer to the shooting guard as Makiko discreetly coughed.  
  
  
"Sure," he replied, giving them another lopsided smile. "The gym is always open and I would love to have you girls cheering on us. We're going to make the team number one this time, that's for sure!"  
  
  
Makiko fumed silently in the background. She hadn't expected him to worm his way into her friends' hearts so easily, but he had done it again! Oh, she wanted very much to get her hands around his neck and choke the breath out of him if only to regain some dignity for being embarrassed in front of her peers.  
  
  
She stood up, gathering her things as primly as she could possibly manage and forced another smile. "Well, it seems like you guys are having fun. I REALLY must go and do some practicing of my own." And with that, she marched off, leaving her friends to entertain Mitsui.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
As he watched her walk off, Mitsui heard Erika sigh. "Y'know, I envy that girl...When she walks it's almost like she's dancing."  
  
  
"I know," Yukiko agreed. "I can't forget how she was as Odette. She was really beautiful that night, too. Every girl in the wings just wanted to be her at that moment."  
  
  
Mitsui frowned slightly. "Odette? Who's that?" He asked. Erika grinned.   
  
  
"In the fairy tale, Odette is a princess who was under a magic spell that turned her into a swan, along with her handmaids. It wasn't until a handsome prince, Siegfred, broke the spell by jumping into the enchanted lake where Odette was held prisoner," she explained.  
  
  
"It was turned into a ballet, and Makiko danced as Odette. Of course, roles like that always go to the principal dancers...so we knew, without a doubt, that Makiko-chan would get it," Yukiko chimed in, stars dancing in her eyes from reminiscing that particular performance night.  
  
  
"I see." Mitsui looked thoughtful as he stared in the direction Makiko had gone. Yukiko noticed this and she giggled.  
  
  
"Oi, Mitsui-san...you like Makiko, don't you?" She teased, slyly nudging Erika, who laughed outright.  
  
  
All color drained from his face and he shook his head so hard, his eyes nearly crossed with the movement. Oh he couldn't possibly LIKE Makiko! She was a witch! She hated him just as much as he hated her! Of course, he dimly remembered why. All he knew was that everytime he tried to make friends with her, she'd snap at him the way a cobra would snap at its prey.   
  
  
What could he possibly like in her? There was hardly anything likeable about her!  
  
  
"I'm not really for hot-tempered women like her," he muttered, sending Erika into gales of laughter.  
  
  
"Hahahahahaha! Y-you can say THAT again! Teeheeheehee!"  
  
  
"Still," he mused. "I really wish I could find out why she hates me so much..."  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
As she walked home later that day, Makiko mulled over her thoughts. Mainly of her animosity with Mitsui. He didn't seem to remember the pain he had caused her, but she remembered everything like it was only yesterday. And each time she saw him brought about a sharp pang that rolled around in her gut.  
  
  
"I'll show you what I'm made of, Mitsui Hisashi," she swore. "I'll show you VERY soon."  
  
  
And with that, she made a mad dash for the studio. First she had to do a little convincing and planning, followed by a little choreography.  
  
  
  
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To be continued...  
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	6. Chapter Five: Makiko's Great Idea

AN: Writers are a funny group of people when you think about it. It has everything to do with what I am requesting of you...See, I've been going through a lot of problems and I don't feel a lot of motivation these days to write NC-17 fics, though I've gotten a lot of requests from friends of mine.   
  
The thing is, I wouldn't know if I have written a good one or a bad one until I know that there are people out there who can at least give me their honest opinion about my NC-17 work...so please, spare me the torture of being in limbo about how I write and CRITICIZE my NC-17 fics...Onegai? I can't stop berating myself for not doing good with my writing and I would appreciate it very much if you guys could at least filter the NC-17 fics and find the ones I've written as solo projects and the ones that I've written upon request of other writers so I will at least know how poorly I write and what I need to improve on...   
  
Sorry...Just needed to get that off my chest...Thanks for taking the time to read this rant...  
  
Back to your regularly scheduled fanfic!  
  
  
  
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"In life as in dance: Grace glides on blistered feet."  
  
--Alice Abrams   
  
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"You say you've got a really great idea...what is it?" Eito asked, looking down at Makiko while she laced up the ribbons of her pointe shoes.   
  
  
Among the male dancers, Eito was easily the handsomest and most talented. He had longish black hair dyed with streaks of brown, tanned skin, almond-shaped brown eyes that twinkled with mirth half of the time and looked serious the next, a straight nose, and thin lips that were formed halfway between a sneer and a smirk when he was serious. He was also blessed with broad shoulders that bore the weight of every girl who had perched on them in a pas de deux, and corded arms that could lift a girl over his head without faltering.   
  
  
Not to mention a very cute ass, as most of the female members of the corps loved to point out when Eito was rehearsing on his solo parts.  
  
  
Makiko looked around. Everyone else in the studio was either warming up or engaged in their own conversation just as she and Eito were. She paused in her task to breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of the dance studio. The studio smelled of polished wood and rosin, a spicy kind of smell that Makiko welcomed as part of the world she loved.  
  
  
Turning back to Eito, she grinned. "I'll tell you after class," she replied, adjusting her leg warmers before standing up.  
  
  
"Makikooooooo ~~~ ! You're not being very fair!" Eito growled, crossing his muscled arms over his chest as he glared at his partner with mock severity.  
  
  
Makiko chuckled and patted Eito on the back. "Awww...doncha worry, Eito-kun...I'll fill you in on everything..."  
  
  
Conversation was quickly brought to a halt when Madamoiselle Cardin stepped into the studio and clapped her hands twice to signal the start of their barre exercises as the pianist struck the first chords of a rhapsody. Everyone scurried to their places and thus began another day at the CHARLOTTE CARDIN DANCE STUDIO.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Kenji-kun?"   
  
  
"Mmmm?" Fujima Kenji opened his eyes lazily, his voice tinged with slight irritation. A whack on his arm brought him back to reality and he sat up, shaking his head to clear his thoughts before turning to Sumire.  
  
  
"Nani? Mire-chan, you just woke me up from a really nice dream."  
  
  
Sumire huffed. "About time you woke up. My lap was getting cramped." She massaged her thighs to get some feeling back into them before standing up. "Besides," she added. "It's getting late. This lookout point is a very nice spot, Kenji-kun, but I don't want to spend the night here, thank you very much."  
  
  
Kenji laughed and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Spoilsport," he retorted.  
  
  
She laughed and hugged him, watching as the sunset cast the whole prefecture of Kanagawa in an orange glow. She loved moments like this, moments wherein she and her boyfriend had everything to themselves and they could just enjoy the day without any of the annoyances.   
  
  
But all throughout the day, she couldn't help but wonder who Tsukiyama Makiko was. Everyday, she passed that studio and she would stop for a few minutes to admire the posters of famous ballerinas dancing to her favorite ballets. Sometimes, she'd go inside and watch from the window as the dancers went through their exercises, marvelling at how they could sustain their positions without a quiver and how powerfully they could express their emotions through dance.  
  
  
That encounter with Mitsui the other day just piqued her curiousity. She hadn't gotten a good look at Makiko, but she knew that she was a dancer from the way she stormed into the studio...If she could only find out about why Mistui hated that girl so much...  
  
  
"Mire-chan...you're getting quiet...I don't like it when you're quiet..." Kenji's voice filtered through her thoughts, teasing her.   
  
  
"I was just wondering..."  
  
  
"About what? Care to enlighten me?"  
  
  
She shook her head. "Nah...nothing important. Let's go home."  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
Back in the studio, everyone was preparing to go home when Madamoiselle Cardin called them together for another meeting. From the look on her face, they all knew she was excited about whatever it was she had to announce. It was in the way her eyes sparkled and the way her hands moved around when she was enthusiastic about a certain project, almost like a kid who was going out on a safari adventure.   
  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have something incredible to tell you." Cardin's eyes shone with obvious delight. "Makiko here has suggested something for ze tour and it is sheer genius! Makiko, cher, please tell ze people what you told me."  
  
  
All eyes turned to Makiko and she stepped forward, clearing her throat. "I have this rough idea for the tour that we're supposed to do."  
  
  
A chorus of excited whispers and murmurs interrupted whatever she was about to say and Makiko waited until they got quiet again, noticing that she was no longer talking.  
  
  
"As I was saying," Makiko began again. "It's just an idea, but I was thinking that we all come up with our own dance numbers for the tour. And instead of the usual ballet, we infuse hip-hop, jazz and other techniques to our dancing. This might get more attention from the student population. And then ~ "  
  
  
" ~ And then we use this as a way of promoting The Nutcracker," Eito finished for her, eyes dancing. "Makiko-chan! That's a BRILLIANT IDEA!"   
  
  
Almost immediately, everyone burst into cheers and ran up to hug Makiko for thinking up something unique and full of possibilities. They started planning for the tour, dividing themselves into groups. One would be in charge of the posters, another for the tickets, another for the music, and so on and so forth. It was like a synergy of ideas and Makiko knew that by the end of the week, they would be able to start choreographing their numbers.   
  
  
She smiled. This was what she loved about the studio. Everyone was united. There were no petty jealousies, no squabbles, nothing. They were one big, fully functional family...   
  
  
Her foot started throbbing again, but she didn't mind it. For the moment, she was happy and that was all that mattered.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Oi! Micchy! Stop moping around like that! You missed a shot again!"  
  
  
"Shut up, bakayarou! You don't even know how to make a three-pointer!" Mitsui retorted, chasing after the ball.  
  
  
Hanamichi quickly outran him and got a hold of the ball, passing it to Miyagi. "Hah! At least I'm in my element now!" He tossed back, punctuating that statement with his trademark laugh.  
  
  
"Do'aho," Rukawa muttered, running past him.   
  
  
"NANI?!?! TEME RUKAWA!!!!!" Hanamichi's eyes blazed as he completely forgot about the scrimmage game and ran after Rukawa, hell-bent on pummeling him.   
  
  
Mitsui grinned, as the team sweatdropped, watching the two boys produce another dust cloud with their fighting. "Well, at least he's back to normal," he remarked.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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To be continued...  
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	7. Chapter Six: Surprise, surprise!

AN: To everyone, it is with a heavy heart that I announce the passing of my grandfather last Wednesday at exactly 4 am. He was 89 years old. Though he was severely weakened by his stroke a few years back, I admired him because he could still walk around despite being half paralyzed and tend to his gardens. I will remember him particularly for his life as a guerilla soldier in World War 2 where he lost much of his hearing but remained courageous and honorable long after the war had ended. Despite his quiet demeanor, he was a good person to all of his grandchildren and I am sure that he has found eternal peace.  
  
To everyone who helped me pray, I thank you for your sympathy...   
  
IN MEMORIAM: To my loving grandfather, Remedio Planco Dumdum. Rest easy, soldier.  
  
  
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"He who cannot dance puts the blame on the floor."  
  
--Hindu proverb   
  
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"Makiko! Do you want these posters to go here?"  
  
  
Without looking up from the sheets of Labanotations*, the eighteen-year-old replied, "That's okay! Put them over by the table. We'll post them out later."  
  
  
"Makiko, when can we start distributing the flyers?"  
  
  
"Right now, if you're going out," she called back, still studying the diagrams with careful concentration.  
  
  
The studio was unusually busy in the days that followed Makiko's announcement. Amidst ballet classes and rehearsals, the older students went about making preparations for the school-to-school tour. The little children studying at the studio were already being rehearsed for their parts in The Nutcracker either by Madamoiselle Cardin or the more advanced dancers.   
  
  
Already, every dancer was practicing their own choreographed numbers, constantly adding new steps or approaching others for help. But instead of solos, Makiko insisted that they would all perform in groups or with a partner. This would add more impact, according to her, and they would be able to watch out for each other and work better that way.   
  
  
However, everyone else insisted that SHE dance a solo to impress the students and she had no choice but to give in. So here she was, studying the notations for her solo performance while everyone else bustled around her, demonstrating steps, finalizing the lay-out for their nth batch of posters while others ran out the door, clutching bundles of flyers to their chests that they were to distribute throughout Kanagawa.  
  
  
Hopefully, they would get a fully-packed auditorium in at least two schools when they performed.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
Wednesay afternoon, Sumire walked out of her English class, stopping to read the what was posted on the bulletin board. As she scanned the notices, someone tapped her on the shoulder and she spun around to find her best friend, Melina Couros smiling at her.  
  
  
"Oi, bruha*! Whatcha looking at?" Melina asked, flipping her layered hair over her shoulder.   
  
  
Sumire smirked. "Lokaret*!" She retorted. "Pass your peepers over to the bulletin board and help me find something interesting before our next class."  
  
  
"But of course, girlfriend."  
  
  
They continued scanning the bulletin board in silence, their eyes skimming over announcements from yesterday, from different clubs and so on and so forth, unaware that a small crowd had gathered around them to read as well.  
  
  
A glossy poster caught Melina's eye and she nudged her best friend. "Grabe, wow! Galing!**" She exclaimed, slipping back into her native tongue like she always did when she was excited.   
  
  
Sumire looked over to where Melina was staring and gasped in surprise at what the poster displayed.   
  
  
"The Charlotte Cardin Dance Studio presents: 'These Shoes are Made for Dancing' (An afternoon of jazz shoes, pointe shoes, and sneakers). With a special solo performance by principal ballerina, Tsukiyama Makiko," Melina read aloud, grinning ear-to-ear.   
  
  
Sumire stopped short and turned to her friend, not believing her ears. "Mel, say that again? WHO is giving the solo performance?" She asked, her eyes wide.   
  
  
"Tsukiyama Makiko," Melina repeated. "Why?"  
  
  
Makiko! That was her! The girl Mitsui was talking about! Sumire's eyes lit up and she literally dragged Melina away from the bulletin boards, running towards the stairs that lead to the senior's floor.   
  
  
"Hoy! What's wrong with you? Why are you in such a hurry?" Melina panted as she hung onto Sumire for dear life with one hand while clutching their bags with the other. Dammit, but Sumire could run really fast when she wanted to!  
  
  
"I have to tell Kenji-kun and Toru-kun!" Sumire replied breathlessly, zipping through the hall at breakneck speed. "Anyway we have ten minutes before our next class. It shouldn't take so long," she added quickly, digging her heels into the floor as they skidded to a stop in front of Kenji's and Toru's classroom.   
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
"You're all required to watch this performance and that's FINAL! If you don't watch it, I will deduct points from your final grades!" The old teacher threatened as groans of exasperation and reluctance escalated throughout each of the classrooms of Shohoku.   
  
  
Mitsui wasn't in such a good mood upon learning that his grades were at stake if he didn't watch the bedamned dance performance. As he walked out of class, he kept angrily muttering to himself about the injustice of having watch something as BORING as dancing.  
  
  
But when he stopped by the bulletin board to look at the poster, his jaw hit the floor.  
  
  
"IT CAN'T BE!!!!!!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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To be continued...  
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1) *Labanotations - developed in the 1920's by Rudolph von Laban as a way to record ballets. Such great ballets like Giselle and Swan Lake have been preserved because of this method of dance notation. Nowadays, dancers study Labanotations for their performances and also if they want to become choreographers.  
  
2)*Bruha - Tagalog for "witch." Usually, the connotation of this word is negative, but because of the belief that words are arbitrary, Filipinos nowadays use this as a nickname of sorts for friends, most especially among females and homosexuals.  
  
3)*Lokaret - Tagalog for "crazy woman." (See above explanation as to why this word can be used among people despite its negative connotation.)  
  
4)** - "My gosh, wow! Incredible!" (for the benefit of non-speakers of tagalog) 


	8. Chapter Seven: Eager Planning and Lots o...

AN: I am thoroughly shocked, angered, disgusted, and disappointed at the recent announcement of the ff.net staff that they will no longer be accepting NC-17 fic submissions. Censorship on the internet is almost impossible to accomplish and to instill that on us fanfic writers is downright disheartening. Not only does it tamp down on the creative abilities of others, but it further represses our freedom to express ourselves as people. It puts a stopper on our desire and our ability to conjure, construct, create, and conceptualize.  
  
  
To the FF.net staff: PLEASE consider what you are thinking. The NC-17 category is actually miniscule compared to other genres and not very many can accomplish writing an NC-17. Give the ones who are good at what they write a chance to express themselves freely. This is a direct offense to our rights as fanfic writers. Might I suggest that you try SCREENING THE NC-17 FICS instead of completely eliminating that genre from the site. When you think about it, some, if not all of the NC-17 fics are really very good material and are well-thought of...to take them down and to disallow more submissions from those who make NC-17 fics readable would be committing a grave offense against their person.   
  
  
I hope I made my point clear.  
  
  
To all other writers: FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHTS! THIS IS SOMETHING WE SHOULD NOT BE DENIED!  
  
  
  
  
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"The dance is a poem of which each movement is a word."  
  
--Mata Hari  
  
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Melina stretched out on the couch and grabbed a handful of the popcorn that Sumire had just made. "So what do you wanna do about it?" She asked Sumire, who was sitting down on a beanbag chair across her.   
  
  
"You girls really should update me more on what your plans are," Irinika Mendoza remarked, brushing back her silver-dyed hair that was cut in jagged layers.   
  
  
Among the three of them, Irinika was the most extreme in personality. She had both a sharp mind and a sharp tongue to complement her Gothic appearance, as well as several piercings in her ears and one in her navel.   
  
  
Naturally, she'd do that because she was a hardcore rocker and very adventurous, being the lead vocalist and songwriter of a band back in the Philippines. Though she looked wild on the outside, she was still a romantic at heart, reserving a soft spot for the occasional ballads she composed or instrumental pieces she would play on her guitar or keyboard.   
  
  
Currently, Irinika was gaining fame in Kanagawa for her voice and her songwriting talents, singing at a local club that had customers pouring in like rain every night. She was also Maki Shinichi's steady girlfriend (Now how that happened is an entirely different story!)...  
  
  
Melina, on the other hand, was what people would call Bohemian in her style of dress and her easy-going nature. She loved bright colors, sometimes a little too loud, loved experimenting with different styles like pairing large hoop earrings with a tie-dyed shirt in crazy Hawaiian colors and ripped jeans, or wearing strange hats that shouted for attention.   
  
  
As opposed to her peers, Sumire was the most conservative of the three, preferring clothes that had a feminine look to them and soft pastel colors. Melina had once remarked that if Sumire were a type of gown, she'd be "poofy and all-girly." That had given them quite a good laugh for about a week.   
  
  
The three bosom friends were chilling out again in Irinika's spacious apartment -- which she shared with Melina -- as usual, talking about whatever came to mind. Once again, the topic of Mitsui's and Makiko's animosity was brought up by Sumire, who had succeeded in thoroughly piqueing Melina's and Irinika's curiousity.   
  
  
Kenji had been quite shell-shocked to find out that Makiko was actually an excellent ballet dancer while Toru had just been plain baffled. Word had spread throughout every school about the tour and students were either complaining about being compelled to watch or talking excitedly about being able to see real ballet dancers in action.   
  
  
"Sorry, Nika. I was kinda excited," Sumire apologized sheepishly.  
  
  
Irinika snorted. "Tse! You've always been so easy to excite. And Melina's always been so easy to annoy."  
  
  
"Hoy!" Melina protested, throwing popcorn at Irinika. "I resent that remark!"  
  
  
Sumire motioned for them to stop before another fight ensued. Also so that Melina wouldn't brag about being the 'Goddess of the Food Fight.' Thankfully, they both did and she sighed with relief.  
  
  
"I was thinking of pairing up Mitsui and Makiko," she said, a slow smile spreading across her face.  
  
  
Melina nearly choked on her popcorn. "Sumire, are you nuts?!" She rasped. "Have you gone completely bonkers?! How do we match up two people who are liable to start an all-out nuclear war if they ever get within a ten-meter radius of the other?!"  
  
  
"I'd like to see YOU try," Irinika snickered. Melina glared horribly at her.  
  
  
Sumire looked strangely confident. "Well, we'll have to get to know Makiko first to be able to pull it off."  
  
  
Irinika crossed her arms and thought it over.   
  
  
"Okay," she finally said slowly. "I'm in on the plan."  
  
  
Melina nodded. "Me too."  
  
  
"Great!" Sumire clapped her hands. "We'll have another cute couple strolling around Kanagawa in no time!"  
  
  
"At least Melina isn't the one doing the planning," Irinika quipped, laughing when the said girl hit her with a pillow.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
"All right! Now...chasé, chasé, chasé! Junko, to your right! Nanami, careful on your entrechats!"  
  
  
Madamoiselle Cardin clapped her hands steadily to the rhythm set by the jazz music, watching carefully as her dancers practiced. Those who were not dancing were either limbering up or practicing the steps that needed correction with Makiko's help. In two weeks, the tour would begin and their first stop was Shoyo High. They needed to be prepared in order to get students to watch their restaging of one of the greatest ballets of all time.  
  
  
Little did they know that their choreographer had something planned in mind for all of them and their futures as dancers.   
  
  
"Makiko-chan...is your foot okay?" Eito asked, coming up behind Makiko to grasp her slim waist as she went into an attitude effacée derrière à terre.  
  
  
"It's not complaining, Eito-kun. Don't be such a worrywart," she chided, stretching her arms out gracefully as if she were combing out the air.  
  
  
Eito frowned slightly at that. "I'm your pas de deux partner. I'm SUPPOSED to worry," he scolded.   
  
  
Makiko hid a small smile and mumbled her thanks before finishing her practice and going over to help two corps members who were struggling with their choreography.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
Mitsui yawned for the nth time in class, valiantly trying to keep awake but failing miserably as his head nodded off into dreamland. The teacher droned on and on about the Laws of Physics, but he didn't hear anything. He was already starting to dream in his seat.  
  
  
He dreamt about a little girl with cute pigtails, chubby in build with fair skin. She would have been cute if it weren't for the angry scowl on her face. Mitsui chuckled. She was definitely going to be a brat when she grew up.  
  
  
Suddenly, the little girl started to grow before his eyes. And as she grew, her baby fat disappeared and her body frame grew slender. Every inch of her was lightly toned with muscle and she held her head high like that of a queen. The pigtails fell away to reveal long black hair that shone like the finest of black satin, flowing down her back like a waterfall. Her skin was still a flawless creamy white, and some part of Mitsui knew that she would feel just as soft as she looked when he touched her and just as delicate.  
  
  
When he looked into her eyes, he could see the anger emanating from them and he didn't know why. When he tried to go near her, she angrily backed away. It was then that he realized that he was staring right at Makiko.  
  
  
He jerked awake just in time to hear his teacher call his name. He couldn't even remember if he had answered the question or not. The only thing he was thinking of was the fact that he had actually DREAMED about Makiko and had actually thought her beautiful...  
  
  
He shook his head. 'I must be stupid to think her beautiful,' he silently scolded himself, slamming his locker shut before heading to the gym for practice. But still, he could not forget those flashing eyes fringed by dark lashes, the Helenic nose, the swanlike column of her throat, and the rosiness of her lips...  
  
  
'Yep, you're losing it,' a voice chortled merrily.  
  
  
And Mitsui reluctantly agreed that he was.  
  
  
  
  
  
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To be continued...  
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	9. Chapter Eight: The Terrible Trio Enters ...

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"Dance is your pulse, your heartbeat, your breathing. It's the rhythm of your life. It's the expression in time and movement, in happiness, joy, sadness and envy."  
  
--Jaques D'Amboise  
  
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Hiroko Teresa Tsukiyama looked at her eldest daughter who was helping her wash the dishes. In her heart, she was still apprehensive to allow Makiko to dance after she sustained that terrible injury a year ago. But she also knew that she couldn't stop her child from dancing. It was like her life-support system. Cutting off dancing meant cutting off Makiko. She sighed.  
  
  
"Hija...Your father and I still can't help but worry about your foot..."  
  
  
Makiko opened her mouth to speak, but her mother held up a hand to tell her that she had to hear her out first. "I know it's been a year since your accident and you're on the road to recovery...but deep inside, I feel that I shouldn't let you dance..."   
  
  
Makiko's mother shrugged. "I guess I'm just being silly. All mothers are like that. They tend to worry about their children."  
  
  
Thin arms reached out to envelope Hiroko in a comforting hug. "You are the greatest mother any daughter could ever ask for. And Otousan is the greatest father any daughter could ever ask for. The only mistake you've ever made was to keep forgiving me and putting up with my temperament," Makiko smiled, tightening her embrace on the woman who gave her life and carried her for nine painful months.  
  
  
Hiroko smiled. This young woman -- once a little girl -- was her daughter. With her dreams and her ambitions, with her clear outline of her life and her destiny, she was already shaping out her own life...  
  
  
"I love you, Nanay*," Makiko whispered, using the Filipino term of endearment that she had heard her mother address her grandmother. It was also what she and her siblings called Hiroko. Even if they were not pure Filipino, that endearment alone spoke of how strong the Filipino sense of values was instilled in them.  
  
  
Tears came into her mother's eyes. "I love you too, Makiko. My sweet little girl who's all grown up now..."   
  
  
And in that moment, all of Hiroko's doubts and worries were erased.   
  
  
Makiko would continue to dance.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
"What is wrong with you today, Micchy? You seem to be out of it more and more these days," Hanamichi observed as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.  
  
  
"It's nothing," Mitsui grunted, reading the flyer that had been pressed into his hand. It was one of the flyers about Makiko's dance performance. The performance that the entire student body of Shohoku was compelled to watch. It was to be in two weeks' time, but the crusty old teachers just HAD to inform everyone in advance.   
  
  
Correction. It was not informing, it was an ULTIMATUM. Either you watch and keep your grades above barely-passing level or skip the performance and suffer a heavy demerit on your grades.  
  
  
Damn.  
  
  
"Hey, don't look too grouchy about having to watch the performance," Miyagi piped up. "Aya-chan says that seeing it will not be as regrettable."   
  
  
Mitsui looked at him warily, but Miyagi ignored him.  
  
  
"It'll keep the team together without any problems, in my opinion. We won't have to worry about double-checks," he finished, closing his locker with a satisfied slam.  
  
  
Hanamichi laughed. "Nyahahahaha! Shorty's right, Micchy!"   
  
  
"That's Captain Miyagi to you, bakayarou!" The team captain growled.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Eito looked worriedly over at Makiko, who was busy smoothing out the steps to her solo performance. He still couldn't help but blame himself the most for what happened to her. He was, after all, in charge of protecting her from bad falls and he had failed to do that. Time and again, Makiko would remind him that it was not his fault that the choreography they were rehearsing that fateful day did not allow him to be at her side.  
  
  
But though she told him that, Eito could sense that a part of Makiko was still traumatized from that particular accident. The only problem was, he didn't know what it was. Even Madamoiselle Cardin had a hard time identifying what it was that troubled Makiko.   
  
  
If she had a boyfriend, it wouldn't be so hard to find out, as Yukiko had pointed out before. Makiko's face was as unreadable as a statue's when she danced. No one could tell if she was in pain or not. She hid everything quite successfully.  
  
  
Eito sighed. "Makiko...you really should tell someone how you feel..."  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
"Don't cry for me, Argentinaaaaaa ~ OW!" Melina cried when Irinika poked her in the ribs to silence her.  
  
  
"Tumahimik ka nga! Nakakabingi ang boses mo*!" The silver-haired teen growled.  
  
  
"Tse! Timang!" Melina retorted. Irinika's battle aura started to glow.  
  
  
"Bulol!" She tossed back.  
  
  
"Timang!"  
  
  
"Bulol!"  
  
  
"Agag!"  
  
  
"Kiti-kiti!"  
  
  
"Oh-kay! Since the two of you have been properly identified, can we get back to business?" Sumire snapped her planner open, tapping her pen impatiently as she waited for her friends to stop arguing.  
  
  
That silenced Irinika and Melina, though they continued to glare at each other, unmindful of the way the people sweatdropped. It was always like this. Every time they got together, the sparks between Irinika and Melina would fly and Sumire would have to be the referee again and step in before they got physical.  
  
  
Quite a normal thing for the three of them.  
  
  
Sumire sighed and took another sip of her ice tea, thankful for the temporary peace and quiet. "Okay, here's what I thought of...Plan A: We introduce ourselves to Makiko after her performance. Plan B: We be our usual charming selves and go into the studio and introduce ourselves to her after she finishes rehearsal."  
  
  
"And on both accounts, we ask her out on a date," Irinika sarcastically finished. Melina burst into outright guffaws that had everyone staring when the milk she was drinking came out her nose by accident.   
  
  
Handing her friend some tissue, Sumire rolled her eyes. "Try 'asking to make her acquaintance,' Nika," she replied.  
  
  
Irinika grinned and slouched back in her seat. "Oh, don't worry. I won't bite her head off when I meet her. From what you've been telling me, I have a feeling she might bite off MY head off AND a considerable number of body parts as soon as ~ "  
  
  
" ~ YOU get into your habit of pushing people's buttons, Nika," Sumire interrupted. "So please don't try anything or I'll have to push the PAUSE button in the middle of your forehead."   
  
  
"You won't have to worry about that. Bitches get along with fellow bitches..."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
****************************  
To be continued...  
****************************  
  
1) Nanay - "Mom" or "Mommy." Derived from the noun "Ina" that means mother in Filipino.  
  
2) (*) "Will you just shut up! Your voice deafens me!"  
  
3) Bulol - Means "one who eats his/her words."  
  
4) Timang - Connotes insanity. Although it has many other meanings that I forgot.  
  
5) Agag - "Gaga" when inverted. It's supposed to connote stupidity in Filipino. The male term is "Gago."  
  
7) Kiti-kiti - Mosquito larvae. 


	10. Chapter Nine: When I Saw You Dancing

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"If dancing were any easier it would be called football."  
  
--Anonymous  
  
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As the day of their first performance neared, the entire studio was all pins and needles. The dancers would sometimes sneak practices in between school breaks and vacant periods in order to perfect their numbers. Madamoiselle Cardin was making it doubly hard by intensifying the rehearsals, assigning roles and adding more intricate steps to their choreography.   
  
  
Makiko was no exception. In fact, she was the most excited among all of the dancers and she was hell-bent on perfecting ALL her numbers.  
  
  
Which was why she was racing through the hallways of Shohoku that afternoon to find an empty room where she could practice yet again. She already had her leotard on and her black capri leggings in her bag as well as her pointe shoes. Aside from that, she was also bringing a small cassette player along with the various tracks she would be dancing to. All she needed now was a vacant room or just about anywhere private with LOTS of space.  
  
  
The duffel bag bounced against her hip as she continued to jog down the long corridors, pausing to take a peek in each room along the hall. She was about to give up when she found herself standing in front of the gym's sliding doors. Their was no sound coming from inside and Makiko sighed both in relief and elation. Finally! She had found somewhere to practice.   
  
  
Quickly, she slid the doors open and closed them behind her, whooshing out a breath. She then took off her shoes and socks, getting into her leggings before unzipping her skirt and unbuttoning her blouse to reveal a sleeveless, racerback leotard in navy blue. Makiko then folded her clothes neatly and packed them in her bag, sitting down on the floor to lace up her pink satin toe shoes as fast as she could.  
  
  
'Might as well make the most of my time and practice. A dancer must never be caught off guard and forget her exercises,' the raven-haired girl mused to herself, doing a few stretches before she popped in a tape and began her rehearsal.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
As Mitsui neared the gym, he kept muttering to himself about random things: Why he had to watch the performance when he considered ballet as boring, why he had to be the one to open the doors of the gym all the time, why he was always sooo full of bad luck the whole week, and a lot of other things.  
  
  
He stopped in mid-rant when he heard sounds coming from inside. The doors were already open, judging from the tiny sliver of light that penetrated in between the doors.   
  
  
'Who the heck could have opened them?' The scarred teen wondered, scratching his head in confusion. Curiosity got the better of him, so he opened the doors a crack wider, peering inside.   
  
  
What he saw nearly bowled him over. Right there in the middle of the gym was Tsukiyama Makiko, his enemy. She didn't notice him as she was too engrossed in the loud pop music and in her dancing, keeping in time with the beat and executing dance steps too intricate for him to follow.  
  
  
Something about the way Makiko was dancing held Mitsui rooted to the spot. Every one of her movements was fluid, flowing into each other like water. Her eyes burned with an intensity that commanded attention, burning with a hidden fire that spoke of passion and raw energy. She moved like she was on top of the music, that she WAS the music, floating through the air or lashing out with powerful movements that could weave a spell around anyone who would just chance upon her.  
  
  
'Whoa! I never knew the bitch could dance like that!' He thought, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew that Makiko was a dancer, but he never thought that she could be THIS good...  
  
  
But when he saw her with a soft smile gracing her features and a dreamy expression in her eyes, in that moment he was thunderstruck.  
  
  
'So beautiful...'  
  
  
Mitsui briefly wondered what had happened to the girl he had been teasing so long ago...the one he once thought was an ugly duckling and would become an ugly duck later on...  
  
  
'She grew up, Mitsui. Just like you did,' a voice remarked. 'The reason you never noticed was because you were so caught up with yourself.'  
  
  
His eyes trailed downwards from her face to her body and the realization that she had lost her baby fat hit him square in the face and he blushed. No longer was her body chubby, but slender, lightly toned with muscle from her dancing. Strange, any other person would have thought Makiko too skinny now, but to Mitsui she looked just right, with the kind of body that could make any man burn. No, there were no signs of anorexia in Makiko...she was as healthy as any girl.   
  
  
'Gyah! What the fuck are you thinking?!?!?! This is Makiko we're talking about! The frigid bitch!' Another voice spoke up, snapping Mitsui out of his reverie. The blush faded from his cheeks just as Makiko's song was about to come to an end.  
  
  
Makiko heard the music about to end and decided to change her few last steps by executing a tour de force, lashing out in a series of brilliant pirouettes before executing one tour jeté that brought her to an arabesque just as the tape stopped. She grinned and stepped out of her arabesque, panting heavily as she relished every step in her head, closing her eyes.  
  
  
The momentary silence was broken by clapping and Makiko whirled about only to find Mitsui leaning against the side of the door, smiling lazily.  
  
  
"Nice dancing, Makiko-chan," Mitsui drawled, emphasizing the 'chan' part. At the sight of him, Makiko immediately bristled.  
  
  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" She demanded, eyes drilling holes in Mitsui's skull.   
  
  
He chuckled. "You're the one trespassing, Makiko. The basketball team is supposed to use this gym for THEIR practice."  
  
  
Onyx eyes narrowed. Makiko started to stalk towards the scarred teenager but a sharp pain in her foot stopped her and she sharply gasped as the pain shot up from her foot to her leg, making her forget about Mitsui and sit down to clutch her foot in an effort to assuage the pain that was making it throb crazily.  
  
  
The teasing light in Mitsui's eyes disappeared when he saw the pain that flashed across Makiko's face. Crossing the gym quickly, he crouched down beside her, placing his hand over hers.  
  
  
"Daijoubu ka?" He asked.  
  
  
Makiko swallowed and ducked her head so he wouldn't see her cry. The tears were starting to well up in her eyes, threatening to spill out at any moment. She cursed inwardly. 'Dammit! I forgot to do my therapy!'  
  
  
"Makiko...Are you alright?" Mitsui's voice broke into her thoughts, the worry evident in the way he spoke.  
  
  
By now, the pain was too much for Makiko to hide and she gripped her foot harder. She let the tears flow, but not without feeling embarrassed that Mitsui had to see her like this. Damn, why did she have to be so weak?!   
  
  
"Iie...It hurts...it hurts a lot..."  
  
  
Her words hit Mitsui like a ton of bricks and he was momentarily taken back to his freshman days when his knee was injured, preventing him from practice until he had finally given up hope and joined a gang that got him into trouble for two years. When he DID come back, there was so much change and so much to make up for and he wanted to gain back everything and just do what he loved doing.  
  
  
But while he had given up hope at that time, Makiko continued to dance. From the way she clutched her foot, Mitsui knew that she had been injured because of dancing. But he didn't sense any desire to quit in her. In fact, he sensed quite the opposite feeling. In her was a drive to keep at it, a resolve to never stop dancing until she died. He sensed that something in her would die if she stopped and he found himself admiring her for how determined she was.  
  
  
"Makiko...Let me bring you to the clinic," he said, making a motion to carry her. She shook her head.  
  
  
"No...Please, just help me over to my bag," Makiko pleaded, looking up at him despite her tears.  
  
  
Mitsui nodded and lifted her up in spite of her weak protests, surprised that she felt so light in his arms and that it felt RIGHT to just hold her like this. He swallowed, suddenly noticing what had changed in Makiko. Everything about her was so delicate, reminding him of expensive china that when handled roughly, would break in an instant. For a moment he was worried that he was hurting her but her voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked down at Makiko.  
  
  
"I have some pain relievers in my bag. My therapist prescribed them so it will be okay," she said, gripping fistfuls of his shirt when renewed pain seized her foot.  
  
  
Mitsui crossed over to where her bag was, lowering her gently and propping her up against the wall as he unzipped her bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her unlace her shoe slowly until the ribbons were all undone. When Makiko took off her pointe shoe, Mitsui shut his eyes briefly at the sight of the huge scar and shuddered.  
  
  
"I'm sorry you had to see this," Makiko whispered, gingerly tracing the scar on her foot. Mitsui shook his head.  
  
  
"It's nothing," he replied softly, going over to sit beside her as he handed her some small tablets and the bottle of water he found in her bag.   
  
  
She downed the tablets, relief washing over her when the pain subsided a little. Turning to Mitsui, she sighed. "I'm really sorry I had to use the gym. There was nowhere else to practice."  
  
  
Broad shoulders shrugged in reply. "Nah, it's okay," Mitsui grinned, suddenly forgetting their animosity. "Besides, I was able to see you dance," he added, giving her a sidelong glance.  
  
  
Makiko smiled back. Suddenly she wasn't talking to her enemy since childhood, but a boy who seemed to have so much in common with her and she felt...comfortable. The voice that nagged her for talking to the enemy was forgotten in the background and for a while she and Mitsui just looked at each other in silence.  
  
  
When the pain had subsided completely, Makiko sighed again. "Arigato for helping me," she said, albeit hesitantly as she accepted his hand to help her up.   
  
  
Mitsui smirked sardonically. "I only helped you to so you could get out of the gym and let the team practice," he replied, back to being his arrogant self.  
  
  
Hearing this Makiko flared up. "FINE! Be a jerk! I always knew you would never change, Mitsui! And just when I saw some hope!" She shouted, gathering her things and walking quickly out to the ladies' restrooms to change, slamming the doors behind her as she went.  
  
  
And right there and then, Mitsui Hisashi suddenly felt like scum.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
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To be continued...  
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	11. Chapter Ten: Whenever You Call ::Part 1...

AN: I apologize if this chapter is a little short. Currently, I am trying to update my other fics, so this chapter might be a little bit dry. Once again, I am sorry. The next chapter will definitely be a lot better... :) Here, I mention the mysterious OC once more. Of course, It will do everyone some good to keep guessing. I won't reveal her identity until the end...Hehehehehe...Me soooo evil! ;D  
  
  
  
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"Wrestling is ballet with violence"  
  
--Jesse Ventura  
  
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Makiko trudged wearily through the sidewalks of Kanagawa, hefting her bag over her shoulder as she spouted out curses, all of which were directed at one person.  
  
  
"That jerk! That colossal, no good, sorry excuse for a human being!" She grated, puntuating each word with an angry stomp. Images of Mitsui flashed through her mind, making her stop in her tracks. She sighed just then.  
  
  
'Even after how he treated me, I still...' Makiko shook her head to cancel that particular thought and continued on her way home, tightening her jacket around her and clutching her bag closer. Next time, Mitsui would get his come-uppances, she swore to herself as she quickened her pace. The twilight had settled in but she still had somewhere to go before heading home, hoping to work out her anger by practicing one last time at the studio.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Oi..."  
  
  
Mitsui turned to the source of the voice that was barely above a whisper, surprised that it was Rukawa who owned it.  
  
  
"Rukawa...what's up?" He asked the rookie.  
  
  
"You shouldn't treat her like dirt," Rukawa spoke in a flat monotone.  
  
  
"Huh?"  
  
  
The tone of Rukawa's voice was devoid of feeling, but looking into his eyes, Mitsui could see the torrent of emotions that his kohai normally kept hidden. "Whoever she is, you shouldn't treat her like dirt. You just might lose her."  
  
  
Mitsui was taken aback. This was a first. Rukawa was actually TALKING. Not just in monosyllables, but in FULL sentences. And about which topic was even more amazing. Of course, ever since...well ever since SHE came along, Rukawa had become a totally changed man.  
  
  
"Dude, I really don't know what you're talking about," the senior replied, closing his locker and leaning against it.  
  
  
Rukawa shook his head, unruly bangs flying with the movement. "Believe me, sempai, I KNOW what I'm talking about. I came close to losing...I..." He stopped here and looked down at his shoes, shutting his eyes briefly. "I almost lost her and for a moment I was helpless..."   
  
  
Mitsui placed a hand on Rukawa's shoulder. "Daijoubu, Rukawa. She loves you just as much as you do. That's what matters, ne?"  
  
  
The taller boy looked up. "Then what about you, sempai?" He wanted to know, looking Mitsui dead in the eye. "What about this girl of yours?"  
  
  
"Once and for all, Rukawa, I DON'T HAVE A GIRLFRIEND. And I don't plan on having one," the shooting guard replied. "You might as well tell me to drop my pants before that ever happens."  
  
  
'Especially if it were Makiko who'd be your girlfriend,' a small voice in his head spoke up.  
  
  
But though Mitsui tried to block out the image of Makiko when he insulted her outright, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Especially when he saw the pain etched on her face earlier that afternoon. Her words had been like a punch to the gut, had hit him harder than Hanamichi's powerful blows. He knew he had been wrong and had offended her but his stupid pride wouldn't allow him to grovel in front of her for forgiveness.   
  
  
Seeing that look on her face, he had wanted to catch up with her and tell her he was sorry, but somehow his feet had been rooted to the floor and all he could do was stare after her. He couldn't take back what he said anymore.  
  
  
"Sempai...it's not too late," Rukawa said, as if reading his mind. "You can still establish your relationship. You don't always have to dance around each other in circles."   
  
  
Mitsui smiled in thanks and immediately packed up to go home, bidding everyone else a hasty goodbye. Maybe if he got home early enough, he'd be able to look up Makiko's phone number in the directory and talk to her...not tease her and embarrass her but make decent conversation with her...  
  
  
Maybe...  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all...  
  
  
For the nth time, Mitsui couldn't get his fingers to dial Makiko's number. Each time he grabbed the receiver and tried to dial, his hand would start to shake and he would slam the receiver down again. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he sat down beside the phone, staring at it angrily.  
  
  
'WHAT is wrong with me?!' He groused silently. 'It's only Makiko, for crying out loud!'  
  
  
Only Makiko...Yeah right. So why was he so fucking nervous?  
  
  
'Admit it, Mitsui. You're scared of what she might say...'  
  
  
Scared. Yeah, maybe he was.  
  
  
He shook his head. Okay, he REALLY was.  
  
  
But he couldn't go to sleep with a guilty conscience. And he didn't want any nagging feeling that he had botched up good. He needed his peace of mind. With jaw resolutely set and squared shoulders, Mitsui lifted up the receiver once again and slowly punched out Makiko's phone number.  
  
  
The phone rang twice before it was picked up. "GoodeveningTskukiyamaResidenceMayIhelpyou?" A voice answered in one breath, sounding bored.  
  
  
Well, it definitely didn't sound like a girl's voice. Mitsui relaxed. "Good evening. May I speak to Makiko, please?"  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
Hideaki sighed when the phone rang and got up from his homework to answer it. Everyone else was just as busy and since he was the only one nearest to the phone, there was nothing else he could do except answer it or risk getting a scolding from his mother. He was mildly surprised when the caller turned out to be a guy. And he certainly didn't sound like Eito.  
  
  
'Who's this guy? Oneesan's boyfriend?' The twelve-year-old wondered, shifting his weight from left to right. "May I know who's calling, please?" He asked.  
  
  
"Tell her I'm a friend of hers from school," the caller replied.   
  
  
Hideaki rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'll get her. Chotto mattete."  
  
  
Placing his hand on the mouthpiece, Hideaki pressed the intercom that connected to a small speaker in Makiko's room. Their father had insisted that they use it instead of shouting for each other and disturbing the neighborhood, so he had it installed.  
  
  
"Neesan, you've got a phone call. A friend of yours from school."  
  
  
Upstairs, Makiko was getting her Trigonometry done when the intercom beeped. After hearing Hideaki, she pressed the intercom button. "I'll switch to the cordless in my room, you can hang up now, Hideaki."  
  
  
As soon as she lifted the handset to her ear, she heard the phone downstairs click, telling her that her younger brother had replaced the phone in its cradle. "Hello?"  
  
  
Nobody answered so Makiko tried again, "Hello? Who's this?"  
  
  
The sound of a throat being cleared was heard at the other end and soon someone spoke up. "Makiko."   
  
  
She froze in her seat. There was no mistaking that voice. The timbre was the same, a baritone that was as smooth as a cup of frothy cappucino, able to melt your insides once it settled down in your stomach. But right now, she just felt like slamming down the phone.  
  
  
"What do you want?" She asked, hoping that her voice sounded cold enough.  
  
  
At the sound of her voice, Mitsui winced. She sounded like she had swallowed a spike and wanted to spit it out with the pointed end aimed between his brows. He hesitated. Was this a good time? She didn't sound too happy that he called.  
  
  
'Well, d-uh! Who would after what you did?'  
  
  
He closed his eyes. It was now or never...  
  
  
"I called to say I was sorry."  
  
  
  
  
  
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To be continued...  
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	12. Chapter Ten: Whenever You Call ::Part 2:...

AN: I am SO VERY SORRY for the monumental delay on this fic! I was stuck for a loooooong while and it just seemed like I couldn't get my muses going. Believe me, it's been quite difficult for me, but I'm going to try and ease up on delaying. If you're all itching for more updates, you can always leave comments on my ficlog. The URL is posted up as part of my profile. You can SMS me here: +639273530734. Feel free to rant. ^^  
  
And now...ON WITH THE FIC!   
  
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Dance first. Think later. It's the natural order.  
  
----Samuel Beckett   
  
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"I called to say I was sorry."  
  
Makiko was stunned. He was apologizing? "What?"  
  
"You heard me the first time," Mitsui replied. "So, will you forgive me or not?"  
  
A ball of fire rolled around in her gut. After what he did he expected her to just forgive him like that?! The nerve!  
  
"The answer is NO, NEVER, IN A MILLION YEARS!" She yelled.  
  
With that, she slammed down the receiver and yanked out the phone cord. There was no way in Hades that Mitsui Hisashi was calling her again! If he did, she'd find some way to beat the shit out of him even if he was bigger than her and a lot stronger.  
  
Makiko sat at her desk, glaring at the phone until she felt she was going to melt the contraption completely before she stomped out of her room and headed down to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich. "I HATE YOU, YOU JERK! SO WHAT IF YOU WERE MVP IN JUNIOR HIGH?! SO WHAT IF YOU WERE ~ "  
  
"Hija, why are you so upset?"   
  
The young girl whirled around to see her mother standing at the kitchen entrance, a look of utter confusion on her face. "Weren't you speaking to Mitsui-kun just a while back? What did he do to make you so mad?" Hiroko asked, going over to her daughter and placing a hand on her shoulder.  
  
Makiko looked away. "Nothing," she grumbled. "He didn't do anything, but he's still a jerk all the same. And I hate his guts and I really wish he would stop tormenting me the way he is now."   
  
"Is that so?" Hiroko smiled and planted a kiss on her daughter's forehead before turning away and walking out of the kitchen. "Why don't you tell me all about it in the living room? I'm all ears..."  
  
As her mother walked out of the kitchen, Makiko let out a small sigh before blowing away a few strands of hair that had come loose from her braid and had fallen in front of her eyes. Knowing her mother, she knew she'd have a lot of things to say about Mitsui - all of which contradicted what Makiko thought about the boy. Sandwich forgotten, she marched out of the kitchen.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Sure enough, her mother was already seated comfortably on the couch. As soon as she entered, her mother smiled up at her and patted the space beside her. "Really, Makiko-chan, I can't help but wonder why you have such a different perception about Mitsui-kun. Why, I bumped into him the other day and he was kind enough to help me with my groceries..." She paused and shook her head. "That was just about the kindest and sweetest thing he has ever done. Don't you agree that he's a sweet and adorable boy? Not to mention that he's grown to be quite handsome..."  
  
Makiko looked aghast. "Nanay, there is NOTHING remotely adorable or sweet or kind about that...that...TURD! And how can you think him handsome? He's so full of himself that I swear, he's defying gravity with the amount of hot air in his head." She plopped down on the sofa and lay her head sideways on her mother's lap. "He's a jerk. Always was. Always will be," she muttered crossly, closing her eyes.  
  
She spoke that declaration with such finality that Hiroko had to laugh. Gently, she unbraided her daughter's hair, her fingers easing out the knots and combing through the strands as she softly smiled. "Makiko-chan, why don't you give Mitsui-kun a chance? Don't you remember how he stood up for you in kindergarten?"   
  
Brown eyes shot open as two delicate eyebrows met in a frown. Her mother DID have a point. However...  
  
"Yeah, as well as every other time that he tormented me all throughout kindergarten, elementary, junior high, and now HIGH SCHOOL," Makiko snorted, looking up and meeting her mother's amused gaze. "Nanay, he's obnoxious and arrogant and he has never given me ANY peace of mind. The only chance of me getting that is if I go far, FAR away, like migrating to another continent." She waved her hands in the air for added emphasis.  
  
"Hai, hai, I know," Hiroko patiently nodded as she continued to stroke her daughter's hair. "But then again, you've always let your temper get the better of you with regards to Mitsui-kun..."  
  
She opened her mouth to protest, but her mother silenced her with a finger to her lips. "I've always known you to be a very patient girl, sweetie," she said before adding, "especially where your siblings are concerned, as well as your studies and ballet. You can't possibly let one boy affect you so badly, ne?"  
  
"Nanaaaaay..." the eighteen-year-old girl groaned. "It's not as simple as that! I've tried, believe me. But it just doesn't seem to work with him!"  
  
Actually, Makiko knew the reason why she just coudn't control her temper when Mitsui Hisashi was in the picture. She was afraid that it was getting too obvious though, so she tried to think of a way to change the topic. However, she forgot that it was her mother she was talking to and Hiroko easily saw through it and giggled.  
  
"Ne, Makiko-chan...you like Mitsui-kun, don't you?"  
  
"Eh? That JOCK? What makes you think that? How can I possibly like a guy like that?"  
  
"Sweetie, I'm more than half your age and I've been there. Besides, you're turning pink." Her mother giggled again.  
  
Makiko rolled her eyes. "It's just a bit hot, Nanay," she replied, turning away so her mother wouldn't see her face turning redder.   
  
Hiroko just smiled knowingly.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Mitsui stared at the dead phone for a full minute before he glowered. 'I can NOT believe it! I tell her that I'm sorry and that I'd want us to start as friends again and she hangs up on me like that! What the fuck is her problem anyway?'  
  
He had all the good intentions of trying to patch things up with her and apologize to her and he was hoping she'd understand and forgive him, but all she did was kill his eardrums. That was the problem with women, he decided. They were all fickle. Half of the time, you didn't know what went on in their heads or what exactly were they driving at. "Nothing" meant "something", "probably" meant "yes", sometimes "no" actually meant "yes", "you're right" actually meant "you're wrong because you don't agree with me" and so on and so forth...  
  
Sighing, he placed the phone back in its cradle and trudged upstairs to his room, plunking himself on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. He knew he shouldn't let just one girl affect him. What did it matter to him anyway? He had had so many girls in the last two years he spent on the streets that he had simply stopped counting. Makiko was nothing special. She was just the little girl he used to tease back when they were kids...  
  
'Only she's not so much of a kid anymore, eh, Mitsui?' A voice snerked in his head.   
  
Mitsui groaned. If he didn't know better, that voice sounded like Tetsuo's. And when Tetsuo started councelling, it got PLENTY scary. The image of a muscular and mean-looking gangster acting as a peer councellor flitted through Mitsui's train of thought and he shuddered.  
  
"No..." he said slowly, voicing his thoughts aloud.  
  
He could feel his cheeks burn up when he remembered how her body felt against his, how she had felt in his arms when he had carried her. 'Definitely not a kid anymore.' For someone as thin as she was, Makiko actually had curves in the right places. He swallowed, suddenly feeling his throat going dry. As much as he hated to admit it, he hadn't wanted to let her go at that time. Part of him suddenly ached to just hold her close...to just feel her against him...  
  
Her eyes always sparkled with life, the kind that could easily draw you in. If she wasn't angry at him, he'd see her laughing with her friends, a thousand things conveyed to the world in her liquid brown eyes. A lot of people would say that brown was a pretty boring eye color but that time he had actually gotten a good look at them, he was surprised to find them flecked with a bright gold that made her eyes flash.  
  
And then there were her lips...thin but tinged with a rosy pink and incredibly inviting...  
  
'And so near at that time that if you hadn't spoiled it, you would have gotten your chance,' the voice said again, taunting him.  
  
He growled and reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. "Just shut up and let me go to sleep and forget about that witch, okay? She's nothing special to me and she never will be..."  
  
'Liar...'  
  
*************  
  
to be continued  
  
************* 


End file.
